Completely Illogical
by Warrior-Maid-of-the-Shadows
Summary: "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well, you're the one with the plans!" I exclaimed exasperatedly. "Seeing as my plan just went to hell in a hand-basket, I thought we could use a little improvisation, which, might I add, is your area of expertise," she retorted. "We're screwed aren't we?" I sighed. "In a manner of speaking, yes, very much so."
1. Prologue

_**Hi everyone! So, just for everyone to know, I'm actually not a Trekkie. My knowledge on Star Trek is very limited as I've just recently gotten into it. This story is based more on the 2009 film than the original series as it seemed to fit better in the alternative universe. Although this deals with the generation after Jim and Spock, we will see the two and some of the others throughout the story. As I'm no expert on Star Trek, if any of you readers see any mistakes, please let me know and I'll correct them. Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks so much. I hope you enjoy.**_

_**PS: The prologue has a more somber feel, but the rest of the story has a lighter tone, don't worry.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or anything affiliated with Star Trek. If I did, I wouldn't have to worry if I have my facts straight or not.**_

* * *

**Stardate: 2274.144**

Children's laughter and squeals of delight rang through the park. Little kids, no older than nine, ran through the playground as they chased after one another. Far in the corner of the area, directly across from the school, an eight-year-old girl sat on the swing with her favorite book, a classic being reproduced, in her lap. Through her short, dark hair, her tapered ears and up-swept eyebrows were just barely visible. As two boys chased after each other, the girl looked up to watch them but didn't move from her spot.

She watched the human children with silent longing, but she knew better than to attempt speaking with them. They had made it all too clear of what they thought of her. She was unwelcome to them, foreign and strange. In their eyes, she was a Vulcan and should be with her own people. They didn't know about her true heritage, but it was better that way. She preferred the taunts created for an outcast Vulcan than for a child of two worlds. Besides, it was the final day of school before the summer holiday and she wouldn't have to endure their teases for much longer.

When she returned to her book, it was snatched from her hands by a large boy from the grade above her: Tyler Whitlock. He was, as per usual, flanked by his two friends as he grinned at her. She kept her face indifferent, refusing to allow him any satisfaction with a response on her part. She knew what he wanted, and she wasn't willing to give it to him.

"Elle," he said in his usual greeting. "What're you reading? Vulcan trash?"

"On the contrary," she answered, voice devoid of all emotion. "It's an age-old classic of yours. Though I doubt you've paid enough attention during English to recognize Rowling's works."

He looked down at the book dangling awkwardly from his hand, "Are you calling me stupid?"

She shrugged, "If you intend to believe yourself incompetent, I cannot stop you. Would you please return my book?"

He held it in front of her but as she reached for it, he pulled it back and tore a few pages out.

"Stop it!" she yelled, jumping from the swing as he pulled more and more of the print-covered pages out.

One of his friends pushed her away as she tried to reach Tyler. He tossed the empty binding at her feet, smiling as the pages were scattered by the light breeze. She dropped to her knees, attempting to gather all of the pages in hopes to fix the book.

"Go back to the Vulcan colony where you belong," he sneered, turning away.

"Green-blooded freak," one of them muttered.

Her grip on the book's blue binding tightened, her knuckles turning white. She leapt to her feet, hurling the broken book at the back at Tyler's head. It struck him with a dull thud as he yelled in surprise. He turned just in time to see her leap at him, anger clear in her eyes. He fell under the impact, causing the two to tumble as they landed their blows.

Surprised at the turn of events, his two comrades ran for the teachers. Elle yelled wordlessly at the boy, a year of bottled rage causing her mind to go blank. She was aware of the trickle of blood running from a cut on her lip, but she ignored it.

"Elle!" a familiar voice cried it shock.

She looked up, shaken from her actions by her mother's voice. As she looked down at the bruises forming on Tyler's face, it occurred to her what she had been doing. She leapt to her feet, looking to her mother for forgiveness.

"I did not mean for this to happen," she pleaded as her mother pulled her away.

"What were you thinking?" her mother asked in exasperation.

"I-"

"You're half human?" Tyler asked, wiping the blood from a scratch with the back of his hand. "You're more of a freak than I thought."

Elle nearly threw herself at the boy once more, but her mother's arms kept her from moving. Tyler's mother, a short, skinny blonde with far too much make-up, ran up to her son.

"Tyler! Are you hurt?" she asked in her high-pitched voice.

"Elle hit me!" he exclaimed, pointing his finger at her.

Tyler's mother looked up contemptibly at Elle and her mother, "You keep that – that creature – away from my son."

"Maybe if you taught your son some manners, you wouldn't have to worry about my daughter," Elle's mother snapped in reply. "Come on, Elle. Let's go home."

Elle followed her mother back to their hover-car, not looking back at the children and parents she knew were staring at her. When she hopped into her seat, buckling the seatbelt, her mother glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

"Elle, why did you hit that boy?"

"He ripped the pages out of my book and called me a freak," she answered, not meeting her mother's eyes.

"Is this the first time this has happened?"

"His name-calling: yes, my retaliating: no."

She heard her mother sigh, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I assumed it would be best to simply ignore him. I was incorrect."

"You should have told me if the kids were bothering you."

She kept silent, knowing her mother was uncertain about how to respond. After a few minutes of silence, she took a chance.

"Mother?"

"Yes?"

"Must I return here next year?"

"This is the third school you've had in three years. Do you really think it's good for you to switch schools so often?"

"We could move," she suggested. "Far away from here, somewhere they won't know anything about us."

"Will that really help the situation?"

"I could grow out my hair so no one would know I'm Vulcan."

"I don't want you hiding who you are, Elle. You should be proud of your heritage."

"It will help me," she pleaded.

"You are proud of your heritage, aren't you?"

Elle didn't answer, knowing her mother would be shocked at the answer. She was, in reality, ashamed of being part Vulcan. It kept her separated from the others and she didn't know what to think of her father, the man who had never once been there for them.

"Why does Father never come home?"

It was a question she asked many times and she knew the answer by heart, but she always wanted to ask. She wanted to hear her father's answer. But that, she knew, was impossible.

"It's better if he doesn't," her mother answered. "He has people who would do anything to hurt him, including hurt us. So he-"

"Must stay away from us to keep us protected," she finished. "Will you tell me his full name?"

"I can't pronounce any more than I've already told you. You're not planning to write another letter, are you?"

Elle had made a habit of writing letters to Starfleet, where her father worked, but she only knew his first name and the title he had when he knew her mother. She had never, in three years, received a reply.

"I think they are being given to the wrong person," she explained. "Many people share the same names. But if I knew his full name, he might receive them."

"Perhaps you should stop writing."

"Why? Is he dead? Is that why he never comes home? Why he never replies?"

Her mother looked away from the mirror, "Enough of that. We shouldn't talk about things like that."

She gazed out the window, unsure whether to attempt to continue the discussion or not. As the trees flew by, she couldn't help but wonder if her father truly was dead.

* * *

**Stardate: 2276.338**

Two years later, Elle ran through the white halls of a hospital, ignoring the glares of nurses and doctors as she did. Perhaps she was being a bit disruptive, almost knocking over nurses in her haste, but she paid them no mind. She was supposed to be in school, taking a math exam, but she couldn't miss this. Her Arithmetic teacher could rant all he wanted when she returned, her mother's condition was much more important to her than a test.

Three months after her tenth birthday, her mother's health had taken a dramatic turn for the worse. She had known her mother was sick, but she didn't know it would end up landing her in the hospital and, eventually, the grave. And the call she had received from Dr. Sannavel was enough to send her racing towards the hospital.

In two years, Elle had taken careful measures to appear fully human. She grew out her hair and bangs, reached out more often, and studied the other children's behaviors until she could mimic them perfectly. She had become an excellent actress and, much to her dismay, a skilled liar. Luckily, she usually only had to dodge prying questions rather than create a lie as an answer. Her mother wasn't particularly pleased with her choice in lifestyle, but she was happy that her daughter wasn't so much of an outcast anymore.

Her mother's illness, a rare disease Elle could never remember the name of, had caused her to lose her ability to walk and speak. Within weeks of her hospitalization, she had gone into a coma and was put on life support. When Dr. Sannavel called Elle, it was to tell her that her mother would not make it through the day.

And so, when she burst through the doors, she was greeted by pitying gazes. Dr. Sannavel herded the nurses out of the room, knowing she would want to be alone in her mother's last minutes. Sitting down in the chair beside her mother's bed, Elle took her mother's hand and inhaled sharply as the fuzzy thoughts made their way into her mind. Tactile telepathy, in her opinion, was nothing more than a burden.

"You're going to kill me when you hear this, but I skipped the midterm math exam," she said softly, half-hearted smile on her face. "I wouldn't have been able to concentrate, anyway.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this. Dr. Sannavel says you can hear me, but you haven't responded yet. He also says that some patients have lived simply by fighting for their life. I hope that's true because I know you would never just give up. Are you fighting in there?"

She paused, knowing she would receive no response but still waiting. With a sigh, she continued.

"I think I'm going to enroll in Starfleet, when I get older, that is. Maybe I'll actually see Father for once. I never told you this, but I used to think the reason he never came around was because he was ashamed. I thought maybe he was just as ashamed of having a half-human daughter as I was of having a Vulcan father. Perhaps if I become a captain or a medic, perhaps he would be proud of me.

"I wrote him another letter yesterday. I don't know why I do this to myself. Why do I build myself up just for his silence to break me down every time? I just can't stop. I should feel that he's given up on me but I only feel as if I'm the one who gave up on him if I don't write to him. I asked him to come here. If he reads it, he'll be here tomorrow at noon. I don't know what I'll do if he's not here.

"Dr. Sannavel says you won't live much longer, but I won't know what to do without you. I need you here, helping me, nagging at me for whatever little thing I've done wrong. If you leave, I'll only have Father, and I don't even know him."

The EKG's beeping began to decelerate, causing Elle grip her mother's hand tighter.

"Please hold on a little longer," she pleaded, tears streaking down her face. "Father's already left us, you can't leave me, too. Please don't leave me."

She hung her head in defeat as the monitor's peaks became almost inexistent. In the silence, she whispered one last plea to no one.

"Don't leave me here alone…"

* * *

**Stardate: 2279.077**

Elle sat on one of the branches in a tree. She knew she should be returning to the orphanage, but she wanted some time to herself. It had been three years since her mother's death and her father had never come. She had sent him a letter after her mother's death, begging him to come to her, but she received no reply. When the authorities asked her if she had any living family left, she replied that she did not. She never wrote another letter after that. Her father was dead to her.

San Francisco was her new home, if it could be called that. No one knew her, as she had allowed no one to get close to her. She had distanced herself from everyone, only speaking when it was absolutely necessary. Her life consisted of going to school, getting her homework done, and staying away from the other children of the orphanage. Though they knew nothing about her heritage, they treated her as she treated them: distant.

"Hey!"

Elle was shaken from her thoughts by the voice. Looking around, she spotted a boy about her age looking up at her. His sandy-blonde hair was tousled as if he'd been running, his blue eyes stared up at her in curiosity.

"What do you want?" she called back.

"I want to know how you aced Pauly's test," he replied. "And telling me how you got all the way up there would be nice."

"I climbed," she answered. "And as for Mr. Pauly's test, I studied."

"No one's ever been able to get more than a 'B' on his tests," he said, attempting to pull himself onto the lowest branch, which still stood about a foot over his head. "How did you manage a perfect hundred?"

He managed to pull himself onto the branch, but he wasn't satisfied. The boy eyed the next branch as if trying to decide if he could make it by jumping. She knew he wouldn't make it, as humans couldn't jump as far as she could.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she warned.

"Why? You must have gotten up there the same way."

"I'm good at calculating my capabilities," she answered.

"You sound like a friend of my dad's. Anyway, I can make it."

"Don't do it."

But the boy ignored her warning, jumping towards the branch which was too far away for him to reach. His fingertips just barely brushed against the rough bark before a look of surprise crossed his face and he plummeted back to the ground. Elle winced as he hit the grass, his groan reaching her ears. Slipping down from branch to branch, she landed on the floor easily.

"Wow," he breathed with a grin, looking up at her as he rubbed the back of his head.

She extended her hand to him, "I told you not to do that."

He took it and allowed her to pull him up, "It got your attention, though."

"You had my attention already. You didn't have to do something stupid to ensure that I was listening."

He laughed, "It was fun, though."

"Alex!"

Elle and the boy, Alex, looked over to see a tall man with the same blonde hair running over. He took Alex by the shoulders, his face worried.

"What were you doing?"

"He attempted to climb the tree," Elle answered.

"Alex, you know that no one's ever been able to climb that tree. Don't you remember what happened to Leo when he tried?"

"She managed it," he said, pointing to Elle.

She shrugged noncommittally, "I've been climbing that tree since I moved here. It's easy for me, now."

"She also aced Pauly's test," Alex said.

Alex's father raised his eyebrows, "Eli Pauly?"

"The same."

He whistled in reply, "I've never known anyone to ace Pauly's tests, even when I was in his class."

"Can she come over for dinner?" Alex asked.

"She'll have to get permission from her parents."

"Don't worry about that," Elle answered. "I don't have parents."

Both stared at her for a second, identical blue eyes full of surprise.

"Please, Dad?" Alex asked, turning to his father.

"Well, I see no reason why she can't."

Alex threw an arm around Elle's shoulders, surprising her with the gesture, "Great. You'll tell me how you aced that test, right?"

"I suppose," she answered as he dragged her after his father.

"By the way, my name's Alexander Kirk, but everyone calls me Alex."

She smiled, something she hadn't done since before her mother died, "Elena Mayer. You can call me Elle."


	2. Chapter One: Photograph

_**Sorry for the long wait. I rewrote this chapter about four times before I lost my data, so it wasn't an easy one to write. First chapters are often the most difficult, in my opinion. Anyway, it's shorter than I would have liked but I couldn't remember exactly everything that I had written before. Oh, well. I hope you enjoy it anyway. By the way, it may seem a little slow right now but things will pick up. Also, if I make any mistakes, grammatical or otherwise, please let me know in a review or PM. Thanks!**_

* * *

**Stardate: 2275.48**

_ One day, thirteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes. Elle went through the calculations for a fifth time, just to be sure she hadn't forgotten any possible information to factor in. Of course, there were chaotic factors that could affect her calculations, but there was less than a 6.3571 percent chance of those disrupting her estimate so she didn't bother herself with it. Her father should have received her letter one day, thirteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes after she sent it._

_ Her mother was in the kitchen of their little two-bedroom house, making chicken tetrazzini. By the smell wafting through the vents, her mother had forgotten about the soup she had been cooking at the same time. Something was undoubtedly burning in its pot. It had been for exactly three minute and thirty-eight seconds. She had hoped her mother wouldn't need her to point it out. Eleven seconds later and her mother's exclamations notified her that the problem had been discovered._

_ She glanced out the window once more, knowing her father should turn up before precisely twelve minutes passed. Dinner was at about 1800 hours every day, though it tended to vary due to her mother's inability to remain consistent. Elle didn't mind as she understood her mother wasn't Vulcan and found no reason to do so. It often highlighted the differences for her and she'd attempt to follow the example._

_ Her father, on the other hand, would no doubt want an exact time to arrive. She guessed it would be more appropriate to have him arrive early rather than late. Opening the drawer of her desk, she pulled out the only photograph she had of her father. As far as her mother knew, the picture was safely tucked away in her jewelry box. Elle had turned the house upside down in search of some proof that her father existed, though the notion was entirely illogical, she knew._

_ He was tall, lithe man with prominent features and a strong jawline. His dark hair, just a few shades darker than her own, was cut in a severe straight line over his forehead and just under his ears. His complexion was a bit paler than hers, and tinged green, but they shared the same almond-shaped eyes and pronounced features. If she looked closely, the very corners of his lips seemed to angle ever so slightly up as if he was vaguely amused by something._

_ She glanced out the window once more, searching the street for the man who was supposedly her father. He hadn't replied to her letter but if he turned up, she'd forgive him. She had so many questions, so many things she needed to know, but could only find her answers if he was there. Had she known his full name, she would have most likely found him herself. But her mother wouldn't so much as write it down for her._

_ Kaleth. The name rolled across her tongue as easily as her own. Foreign and exotic as it was, there was something familiar and comforting in the two syllables. The single word was her hope and she refused to relinquish it. Her mother wouldn't be pleased if she knew just how much Elle hung onto it._

_ "Elle! Dinner's ready!"_

_ With a sigh, she tucked the photograph back under some papers in the drawer and walked out of her room. Her mother was covered in both paint, which had been washed off up to her elbows but remained elsewhere, and food stains of all sorts. A few stray strands had fallen out of the bun she had pulled her hair into, but she kept a self-deprecating smile on her face._

_ "Were you able to salvage the soup?" she asked, trying to take her mind off her father._

_ "Lucky for us, the soup could be rescued."_

_ With a smile that wasn't completely genuine, she went to the kitchen to grab a few plates and bowls. It had become her job to set the table but she didn't mind. The order comforted her, as all methodical things did. However, she nearly dropped the glass plate she held as the doorbell rang._

_ "Allow me!" she said as she rushed past her mother and towards the door._

_ The mat before the door slipped forward into a wrinkled pile as she slid to a stop. Elation filled her at the thought of who was behind the door. Her smile fell, however, when she found herself looking up at a distinctly human couple. Remembering herself, she plastered another false smile onto her face._

_ "Hello," the woman said, smiling widely. "Is your mother there?"_

_ She nodded distractedly, glancing past the woman just in case. Though her hair had grown long enough to hide the physical examples of her Vulcan heritage, she would gladly trade away the secrecy if it meant her father would come._

_ "Mother," she called, walking back into the living room that separated the kitchen from the foyer. "We have guests."_

_ Her mother said something about not waiting for her, but Elle wasn't quite listening. She slumped into her chair at the small dining table, staring emptily at the pasta and soup. When her mother returned, she was pushing the pasta around her plate._

_ "Two days here and the people are already so welcoming," her mother said with a smile._

_ Elle nodded but didn't reply._

_ "Sweetheart, were you expecting someone?"_

_ She looked up at her mother, "No. Not truly, I suppose."_

* * *

**Stardate: 2290.354**

"Bones, Joanna, Scotty, and Lyel are here already."

I turned to face Elle as I shut the door of my car, "How can you tell?"

Elle hadn't changed much from the day I met her in the park. Sure, eleven years had done their work but there were still aspects of her that never changed. For one, she kept her dark umber hair cut just past her shoulders and her blunt bangs brushing against her eyelids. Her gray eyes shining in stark contrast against her olive skin, she gave off the air of a supermodel. She could have been one, too, with her lither figure, long legs, and sharp cheekbones. But she hated to bring attention to herself and often kept her style modest.

"You know Lyel has a hard time staying quiet," she replied with a smile.

I cocked my head to the side, trying to see if I could hear him, as well. No luck. I never did understand how she had such good hearing. It was almost impossible to get away with whispering while she was in the room. Sneaking out after dark was also something nigh on unachievable. It was a good thing she did that on occasion anyway or I would've never gotten away with late-night visits to girlfriends when I was still in high school.

"I don't hear anything," I remarked, knowing that she already knew this.

She closed the trunk as she pulled out the handle for her small suitcase, "You never do. Just like how you never remember to step over the tree root."

"Well, you've told me this – ack!"

I heard her soft chuckle as I promptly tripped over the stray root that arched away from the ground near the door. She extended her hand as she stopped before me, helping me to my feet.

"You were saying?"

"Yeah, well, it wasn't there before," I snapped as I dusted myself off.

Her grin widened, "Roots don't-"

"Move. Yes, I know."

She laughed at my expression and walked towards the door, "Come on, Alex. You can continue your feud with the tree tomorrow."

Shaking my head at her dismissive tone, I followed her up to the porch and dug my keys out of my pocket. Sure enough, when I opened the door, Lyel came bounding down the hall with his blonde curls ruffled and trademark smirk.

"Da! Ya owe meh fifty," he laughed in his thick accent as he embraced Elle.

"Get aff!" Scotty replied from the living room.

"How've you been?" she asked as he let go.

He shrugged, "Da's got meh on'a short leash."

"What did you do this time?" I asked as he took Elle's bag from her.

"Jo! They're here!" he yelled before turning back to me. "Officer pulled meh over, said I was steamin'."

"Lyel!" Elle exclaimed, too used to his slang to lose track of his meaning.

"It was one drink!" he protested. "I was perfectly sober."

Joanna came in a second later, beaming as she saw us. I gave her a small wave as she waited for us to reach the living room. She pushed a chestnut lock from her face as she watched us. Jo and I had a rather shaky relationship since we broke up. Luckily, Elle keeps her from giving me any otherworldly diseases or symptoms. We can keep civilized conversation but Elle's able to temper the storm. Dad said she was just like her father, which I could see all too well.

"What took you guys so long?" she asked as Lyel left Elle's bag at the foot of the stairs.

"We made a few stops along the way," Elle replied.

I didn't say anything to contradict her, even though I knew it was only partially true. It was something we always did at the beginning and end of the summer and winter vacations. Though nothing with Elle was completely certain, I was her only confidante and there were certain things that she did tell me. When we were sixteen, I caught her sneaking out in the still of the night. She had gone to a cemetery and talked for hours over a grave. I quickly found it was something she did every month.

Every month I would follow her to see what exactly she was doing but her actions were always the same. She'd stand over the same grave and talk until the sun was beginning to rise about everything that had happened since the last time. When she finally caught me, she was only angry for a little while before "introducing" me to her mother. It then became a habit that we both went. She always seemed happier afterward, as if her mother was really still alive. So whenever we came back home for the holidays, we'd always stop by the cemetery.

Instead of adding to it, I gave Joanna a polite smile, "Jo."

Her smile faltered ever so slightly and I could almost see her calculating whether he dad would notice a missing hypo, "Alex."

"And we have the whole dysfunctional family back together!" Elle announced, breaking the fragile tension.

Jo's face softened as she turned to face Elle, smiling despite herself. She turned around and we all walked the rest of the way.

Dad was laughing as we walked into the living room, lounging across the loveseat in the corner. Scotty leaned against the arm of the loveseat, grinning with a glass of scotch in his hand. Uhura, who tended to act in place of Elle's mother, stood from the couch to hug Elle. She returned the embrace easily enough, even though I knew she wasn't fond of hugs. Personal space is a sort of important to her, though she won't explain why. Like with most prying questions, she gives you a wry smile and a noncommittal answer.

"How've you been?" Uhura asked, smiling broadly.

"Good. I had to ward off some Andorian girl that Alex had angered, but I'm fine."

"You can't even handle your own exes?" Bones laughed.

"She came at me with a mob!" I exclaimed.

While the others laughed, Spock gave Elle a curt nod. She replied with a silent Vulcan salute before returning her attention to the rest. It was the common greeting between her and Spock, sort of a symbol to show their mutual respect for the other. Neither pried into the other's personal life and the two shared a shaky friendship, finding common ground only in what made them different. They were both intellectually brilliant, always calculating, relatively quiet, and preferred their privacy. I always felt that they had the most similarities and would have become great friends had Elle only opened up a little more.

"He went running in my direction as soon as he saw her and her friends coming," Elle said with a smile.

"I wasn't running, I was coming to you for backup," I protested. "You're my wingman."

"She's your wing_man_?" Dad asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Who better to help me with girls than a girl?" I replied. "She knows exactly what to say, when to say it, what to do, how to act, and remembers every important date."

"What would you do without me?" she said in mock horror.

"All of his exes would have sent him to Delta Vega by now," Jo muttered.

We all laughed, even though we knew it was partially true. Elle was the only thing between me and the several women that had it out for me. What can I say? I'm my father's son.

* * *

I sat on the edge of Elle's bed as she unpacked her bag. Technically, half of the suitcase was full of my stuff, but it was her case. Besides, my unpacking basically boils down to tossing a few clothes into my closet and pushing whatever else I had brought under my bed. She would often fold up the clothes I had strewn across the floor and fold them up for me. She claimed the mess gave her migraines.

"If you don't close your mouth, you're going to end up swallowing a fly," she said as she tucked a few shirts into her dresser.

"My mouth _was_ closed."

"It wasn't."

"What makes you think that?"

"You were breathing through your mouth," she pointed out.

I raised an eyebrow, "You could hear me breathing?"

Her hearing was good, but I hadn't realized it was _that_ good.

"It's hard not to."

As she turned around to face the closet, something fell to the floor from the jeans she held. I picked it up out of curiosity and unfolded it. It was a photograph of a Vulcan man who looked oddly familiar.

"Who's this?"

She turned to face me, freezing as she saw what I held. Something flickered across her face, some unnamable emotion, before her eyes went blank.

"Your boyfriend?" I asked, teasing. "I thought you would have told me."

Her face turned an odd shade of green and I wondered if it was the obvious age difference that was present that disgusted her. I would have thought she would have laughed, as we both knew she didn't get into relationships.

"I didn't know you were into older guys, let alone Vulcans," I joked, hoping to break through the mask she had put up. "I won't judge."

Within two seconds, she had walked back over and snatched the picture from my fingers. She looked down at it, hands shaking ever so slightly as she glared at the apparently offensive photograph.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I offended you," I started. "I was just joking with you."

She looked back up at me, expression guarded, "I know."

I watched as she sat down in the armchair by the window, looking at the image with a mix of muted anger and sadness.

"Is it someone you knew?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"I guess you could say that."

There was something in her expression that warned me not to ask any more questions, but I had never done well with warnings.

"Who is he?"

"Someone my mother knew when she was alive. She was…fond of him."

"So he was a family friend."

Another flicker of the foreign emotion through her eyes, "Yeah."

And with the last sliver of my sanity, I asked what was probably the most tabooed question when it came to Elle.

"Why didn't he come for you when she died?"

I had asked exactly the wrong question, I could see it in her face. A brief pained look passed over her features before the anger became apparent.

"I guess he just didn't care," she said softly, ripping the photo clean in half.

I began to regret ever saying anything as she tore the pieces once more and let them fall into the small trash bin beside her chair. If she had kept the picture since before her mother died, the man in it meant something to her. And yet my words had sparked up enough resentment for her to get rid of it.

Unsure of what to do, I stood up quickly, "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm tired. Good night."

"Good night," she replied, still shooting daggers at the scraps.

As I closed the door behind me, I noticed a look of despair pass over her face. She turned to gaze out the window at the night sky, effectively hiding her sadness from me. It was common for her to do that. When something hurt her, no one would ever know it. She would wait until she thought no one was watching to let her façade fall. It wasn't a trust issue, but the problem of her not wanting us to hurt with her. She would rather suffer alone and in silence and there was nothing the rest of us could do. That was just Elle.

So I shut the door as quietly as I could and walked to my room across the hall. Something in the night felt a bit lonelier than it had before. As I lay down in my own bed, I wondered if it would be another bad night. It had been years since the last bad night, but nothing had ever been brought up that had affected Elle like that. When she first started staying over, I would wake up to find her crying herself to sleep. On those nights, I would sit at the side of her bed and tell her about my family and friends and old stories until we both fell asleep in her room. I didn't mind the occurrence, but I hoped she would be alright.

Luckily, it wasn't a bad night. Just not a great one.


	3. Chapter Two: Different

_**Hello again! Thank you all for sticking with me so far. I'm extremely grateful to all of you who reviewed and/or added this to your favorites or alerts. I've decided to start out each chapter with a memory so you can piece together Elle's past but, as usual, I'm relying on you to tell me if I've gotten anything wrong. I'm still fairly new to Star Trek and often forget certain aspects. I hope you all enjoy the chapter anyway.**_

* * *

**Stardate: 2275.107**

_"What are you doing?"_

_ Elle looked up to see a girl with a mess of brown curls and bright green eyes. The girl looked no older than herself, but that only warned Elle off more. Even with her human façade near perfect, very few children approached her. But she didn't mind it. There was something welcoming about solitude._

_ The girl blinked at her, waiting for an answer._

_ "Writing," she answered, hoping it would be enough._

_ "You're Elle, right?"_

_ She nodded, starting to wonder what the girl wanted._

_ "My name's Kelsey," the girl announced. "Did you know the others say weird things about you?"_

_ "I know," she replied, knowing full well what the other students said about her._

_ "Are they true?"_

_ Elle grit her teeth, "Did someone tell you to ask me?"_

_ Kelsey shook her head, "They say things about me, too. But not all of them are true. I was just curious."_

_ She thought that over, remembering hearing the name before, "You're Kelsey Atkins."_

_ The girl nodded with a grin, "The girl with the hole in her heart."_

_ Elle had always thought life was cruel, but Kelsey Atkins was one of the few people she pitied. The story was that she had been born with a hole in her heart, causing problems to her health. It was a faulty code in her genes and the chance of her living past twelve was highly unlikely. Everyone whispered about it, some of the more heartless making guesses as to when it would turn fatal._

_ "I'm sorry," Elle muttered, unsure as to what to say._

_ "Don't say that," Kelsey said, smile fading._

_ "What?"_

_ "Everyone tells me they're sorry, but I hate it. They all feel bad for me. But I want people to be happy around me. People say you're different, not quite like the rest. I was hoping it was true. Then you wouldn't pity me."_

_ Elle couldn't help but stare at the girl, shocked by her words. Many people had called her different, when they were putting it nicely, but only her mother had claimed it was a good thing. Kelsey leaned forward slightly as she lowered her voice._

_ "_Are_ you different?"_

_ "Different in what way?" she asked, just to be sure._

_ "Well, Brandon swears he saw you with pointed ears. A lot of people say you're an elf changeling because of that. Others say you're an experiment, made to be smarter than the rest. Sarah says you're a new type of robot that can think and act like us. I think you're just smart and like to keep to yourself."_

_ Elle narrowed her eyes slightly, "Who put you up to this?"_

_ Kelsey just smiled, "You know I don't have a lot of friends. I know you stay away, but you watch. You must know everything about everyone."_

_ "A little."_

_ "What do you say? Two outcasts together?"_

_ Taking a risk of ruining the shaky charade she had created, Elle brushed a few strands of hair away from her right ear. Kelsey's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse. Elle straightened her dark tresses before anyone else could see._

_ "You don't want to be my friend. I'm different."_

_ Kelsey's surprise faded away as she grinned broadly, "Good. Normal's no fun, anyway."_

_ "It doesn't bother you?"_

_ "Nope. I think it's neat," she answered before lowering her voice again. "So why are you different?"_

_ "I'm not completely human," Elle said truthfully._

_ "You're not really an elf, are you?"_

_ She fought the urge to laugh at the absurd question, but couldn't stop the smile it caused. Amusement was apparently what Kelsey had been aiming for as she gave a teasing smile._

_ "I won't tell if you are."_

_ "My father's from off-planet."_

_ "Cool. Do you speak another language?"_

_ "No."_

_ "So, anything else besides the pointed ears?"_

_ Elle shrugged, "A few things."_

_ "Will you tell me?"_

_ "Well, my eyebrows are angled up at the edges and I have green blood," she stated, hoping Kelsey wouldn't react negatively._

_ "Really? Why green?"_

_ "It's copper-based."_

_ "Huh. What about powers? Can you fly? Do you have super strength? Super speed?"_

_ "I'm not a movie hero," she protested._

_ "Alright, so you don't have any special powers…"_

_ With a sigh, Elle gave in, "I'm stronger and faster than humans, my hearing and sense of smell is better and I can read thoughts through touch."_

_ "Sweet! Can I try?"_

_ She held out her hand eagerly for Elle._

_ "I'd rather not."_

_ "Maybe later, then. Anything else?"_

_ The rest of recess passed in a similar manner. Kelsey continued to ask Elle several questions and often marveled at the replies. Elle found that she rather liked confessing everything she knew of herself. Kelsey was very easy to talk to and, by the end of the day, Elle realized she didn't truly want it to end. So Kelsey was invited over for dinner. She never stopped asking questions._

* * *

**Stardate: 2290.356**

I cursed quietly to myself as my hand slipped and the knife sliced into my skin. Dropping the knife, I rushed to the sink and held my hand under the running water. Elle looked over her shoulder from her position in front of the pantry to see what had happened.

"What happened?" she asked as her eyes narrowed on the pink-tinged water running from my hand.

"My hand slipped," I replied as I worked on cleaning it.

"I'll get Bones."

I waved my free hand dismissively, "Don't bother him with it. I'll be fine."

She walked over and took my hand carefully, examining the shallow cut across my palm. I could see the concern in her eyes as she looked up at me.

"It's painful. I think you hit a minor nerve."

"It's not that bad," I bluffed.

She pressed down on the edge with the pad of her thumb, causing me to wince as a sharp twinge jolted up my forearm.

"Liar. I'm getting Bones."

I rolled my eyes as she walked off, calling out to her, "It's not like this is the first time!"

It was sadly true. I've had my fair share of cuts, scrapes, punctures, bruises, burns, and broken bones. What was worse is that most of my injuries came from the kitchen on the holidays. Cooking just isn't my forte. I'm a klutz when it comes to kitchen appliances and cooking utensils. I once said to Elle, after a particularly nasty burn, that cooking was a woman's job. A swift spatula to the back of the head was what I received for my troubles.

Elle came back within five minutes, but with a med kit in her hand rather than Bones behind her. I preferred it that way, anyway. Bones wasn't exactly pleased with my temporary relationship with his daughter and though he wasn't openly hostile, he made a few embarrassing remarks and caused my examinations to be rather unpleasant. Besides, Elle had a better bedside manner.

I leaned against the counter as she rummaged through the kit for ointment and bandages.

"You should be applying pressure to the wound in attempt to staunch the blood loss."

I blinked in surprise, wondering at the change in speech pattern, "What?"

"Apply pressure to the wound. The last thing I need is you fainting from blood loss."

"That was one time!"

She grinned in reply, "Let's keep it that way."

I watched as she applied the antibacterial cream and began wrapping the bandage around my hand.

"We should keep you away from knives," she muttered. "Or maybe just the kitchen in general."

I gave her a self-deprecating smile, "Yeah, it doesn't really like me, does it?"

"Jo and Lyel want to hit the new club in about fifteen minutes," she said. "The one where Spencer's used to be."

"A night club moved into Spencer's?"

"Yeah. Do you want to go?"

"Do you?"

She shrugged, "It doesn't bother me."

"Maybe you'll find a nice guy."

She rolled her eyes, "You know I don't-"

"Sometimes I think you might be secretly a lesbian," I joked. "Which is fine. I won't have a problem so long as I can watch."

She smacked my arm, "I'm not interested, you pervert."

I laughed before turning serious again, "Don't you think it would be nice? Having a boyfriend, and all?"

"I don't like becoming emotionally invested in people, Alex. They never stick around."

"That's not true. I've stuck around for eleven years," I protested. "And I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. You're stuck with me, Elle, whether you like it or not."

She smiled and shook her head, "You're such a child."

"And you're too adult," I retorted. "Now come one. We don't want to keep Lyel and Jo waiting."

Elle turned the stove temperature down to let the soup simmer and we told Uhura before we left. The new club was pretty much in walking distance of my house. Spencer's had been a little family owned burger joint but went out of business three months before due to financial problems.

The inside of the night club pulsated with neon strobe lights and the bass of whatever dance song they were playing reverberated through the very floor. Elle and I were both in jeans, standing out among the crowd. Of course, Elle always wore jeans and sandals to bars and clubs. She didn't wear make-up either. It wasn't like she needed it anyway.

The flashing lights glanced off the angles of her face, causing her to look almost inhuman. But it was the foreign and exotic look that made her enticing. Beautiful and mysterious, she could have had any guy she wanted. But she just wasn't interested.

Jo and Lyel were actually sitting by the bar, laughing about something I couldn't hear. Lyel's smile broadened as he saw us and he instantly let Jo know we had arrived.

"About time you got 'ere," he yelled to us over the noise. "We've been waitin'. We had a few shot's for ya, but the rest are on you."

"You're too kind," Elle laughed as we sat down.

"I thought you didn't like clubbing," Jo said.

"Well, I couldn't leave Alex to fend for himself."

"Aye. He'll need ya for when they come at 'im."

I draped an arm over her shoulders, a gesture that had become natural for us, "Actually, Elle's here to have a little fun."

"Really?" Lyel asked, nearly choking on his drink.

"Not-"

"She's going to prove me wrong," I said, cutting her off. "I'd bet she chickens out."

Lyel grinned, "What're the stakes?"

"Loser buys for tonight."

"Ah, she'll last ten minutes before she calls it quits," he decided.

"I think twenty," Jo announced. "Elle's pretty patient."

"Don't I have a say in the matter?" Elle demanded.

"If you back out, you have to pay the tab," I said.

She opened her mouth to protest before a determined look crossed her face, "Alright. If I get phone numbers of every guy I dance with by the end of the night, I get bragging rights, you pay the tab, and you don't get to make another remark on my sexuality. Deal?"

I grinned, "Deal."

"Right, then," she said, grabbing my glass and downing the entire thing. "Let's get this over with."

Without another word, she stood up and walked out into the crowd. Lyel leaned closer, never taking his eyes off of her.

"D'ya think she'll actually go through with it?"

I shrugged, "Well, I don't think she's going to quit anytime soon."

"She might just win," Jo said, watching the crowd.

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

She pointed to a couple in the thrall of people and I quickly realized it was Elle and another guy. I stared in shock, watching as she flirted with him shamelessly. I had never known she _could_ flirt. She had always been one to brush off advances. Hell, when a guy offered to buy her a drink, she let him do just that and then told him to go away. Lyel and I would always laugh at their faces when she told them. Apparently, she wasn't as incapable as I had thought. Within five minutes, she had managed to get him out onto the dance floor.

"I canna' believe it," Lyel muttered as we watched her dance. "Who woulda known she had it in her."

"No kidding," Jo agreed. "You know we're going to lose, right?"

"Fuck me," he breathed as Elle grinned suggestively at the guy. "Shame I wasn't smart enough ta ask."

"Amen to that," I replied, taking a long drink of my new glass.

It didn't take long before the guy she was dancing with slipped a small piece of paper into her jeans pocket. With her goal reached, she gave him a wink and walked away.

"What a tease," I murmured, watching as she worked her way through the crowds.

"I wonder where she picked that up," Jo replied sarcastically.

"I'm not a tease."

"Sure you aren't."

Ten minutes passed, along with several drinks, and Elle had managed to do exactly what she had promised. She had to have collected at least a dozen numbers. Lyel, who had been having a silent argument with himself, seemed to have given up and took a long swig of his whisky before prodding Jo.

"Move over, I'm goin' to get a dance."

"You can't do that!" I protested, grabbing his arm. "You're forfeiting your bet."

"You're a bloomin' idiot na' to make a move, Alex. I'm na' about to make the same mistake."

He pulled away from my grasp and immediately walked up to Elle. As he spoke, she smiled and nodded before saying something to the guy she was dancing with before. The two walked off into the crowd, leaving the guy to gape after them. I didn't exactly blame him.

"You know," Jo said suddenly. "Lyel has a point. You've always gotten around. Why haven't you ever tried anything with Elle?"

"Why would I?"

She shrugged, "I know she's not exactly your type, but she's better than half of the girls you've ever dated."

"Elle and I are friends. I don't want to ruin what we have."

"It didn't stop us," she pointed out.

"We took a chance and look how it turned out," I replied. "I got bored and you wanted it to be serious. It probably never would have worked out, anyway."

"You're right," she admitted.

I stared at her for a second, not expecting that answer, "Wow. How much pride did you have to unbend for _that_?"

"And that's why we would have never worked out."

"It was just a question."

"You're impossible."

"You mean insufferable."

We both looked up to see Elle helping a very drunk Lyel back onto his stool. She looked as if she might have actually been enjoying herself, but that wasn't good news for us.

"How many do you have?" I asked.

"Twenty-seven," she answered with a grin. "It's not too late, so I'll see how many more I can get."

She was off before I could protest.

"She's better than I thought," Lyel laughed.

"We should probably get you back home," Jo laughed.

"I'm fine," he protested, promptly slipping off of his stool. "I'm a'right."

"You take Lyel home," I replied. "I'll stay here and tell Elle."

"Alright. I guess she won anyway, which means you pay."

"Yeah, yeah, get going."

She smiled before helping Lyel away from the bar and towards the door. Deciding it was better just to go find Elle, I paid for the drinks and walked off into the crowd. I hadn't seen where she had disappeared to but it couldn't be hard to find her. She had to be the only person in the club wearing jeans and a long-sleeved, form-fitting blue sweater. God only knows how she managed to get so many numbers wearing a sweater and jeans.

Needless to say, I found her fairly quickly. Unfortunately, it wasn't in an aesthetically pleasing situation. Whatever guy she had been dancing with apparently wanted more and grabbed her wrist as she went to walk away. She immediately tore away from his grasp, snarling something I couldn't hear.

"Hey!" I snapped, causing both to look up at me. "Can I help you with something?"

"You can mind your damn business," the guy retorted.

"Alex, I can handle this," Elle said, apparently trying to warn me off.

"This your boyfriend? I guess I was right in guessing you're a slut."

Call me brave or just plain idiotic for hitting a guy about a foot taller than me, but that's just what I did. It did me more harm than good, though. The second I glanced at my bloodied knuckles, he straightened back up and nailed me square in the nose. Somewhere in between falling to the floor and picking myself back up, Elle had taken it upon herself to come to _my_ rescue. Embarrassing just didn't cover it.

As soon as I stood, I realized two more had come to the first's aid. Elle had always excelled at the physical defense classes at Starfleet Academy but even she was in over her head against three others. So I joined in the fray, just to even out the odds. I lost track of Elle, far too busy with the blonde in front of me. Just as he was about to land another blow, a hand closed around his wrist.

I looked up to see Spock, eyes glinting dangerously as he looked at the man. He made quick work of him, using what I could only guess was the famous Vulcan nerve pinch Dad had always talked about. As we both turned to face Elle, she was thrown into the wall by her only lasting assailant. I could almost hear the thud over the music. Stumbling back slightly, she dodged a punch and dropped to the floor. With a swift kick, the man's feet were knocked out from under him. Spock caught him before his head hit the floor and left him unconscious like the first.

Elle swayed on her feet as she stood, hand pressed to the edge of her forehead where it had collided with the wall.

"How did you know we were in trouble?" I gasped out to Spock.

"I did not," he replied. "Lyel and Joanna returned without you and Uhura worried for you. I came to rectify the basis of her anxiety."

"Right," I answered, not quite listening. "Elle, you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just give me a second."

She seemed to stop shaking for a minute before taking a step and fall forward. I barely had time to catch her as she fell, her eyes rolling back into her head.

"She will have had a concussion," Spock noted as I tried to figure out how to support her.

"Really?" I asked sarcastically. "I had no idea."

"The proper response would be to thank me for my intervention in the matter."

All I could manage in reply was an irritated growl. Trust Spock to state the obvious and expect gratitude. Leave it to a Vulcan.


	4. Chapter Three: Isolation

**Stardate: 2276.340**

_Words, she focused on words. It was a simple tactic Elle had worked out to gain control over troublesome emotions. She had learned quickly that her emotions ran deeper than humans. There was no anger, longing, or sadness. There was only all-consuming rage, painful need, and complete agony. There were extremes or indifference, but nothing in between. So words and numbers became her control._

_ As she sat in the waiting room of the hospital, watching the doors for a familiar face that she had never seen in person, she focused on the words used to describe the emotions she felt. It wasn't much, but the separation of sentiment and reason allowed her to choose one or the other. It was mind over matter._

_ Grief- noun: a deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement._

_ Was grief the correct term? Poignant worked perfectly to describe the reaction to her mother's death. Distress didn't quite seem adequate, but it was acceptable. But was it bereavement that caused her torment?_

_ Bereavement- noun: the state of being deprived of something or someone._

_ Deprived wasn't the correct word. Deprived insinuated the fact of something being withheld. Her mother was most definitely not being withheld from seeing her. Death was the permanent cessation of life. She tried to think of a word that was more suitable to her current state. Agony, distress, woe, anguish…_

_ Anguish- noun: extreme pain, distress, or anxiety._

_ Yes, that worked quite well despite lacking the cause. Perhaps sorrow, the deep state of distress for the loss of something loved, was more sufficient. Sorrow and anguish seemed ample._

_ The doors slid open and Elle's attention snapped in their direction. A woman of Asian descent walked in, leaving her to return to her thoughts. She had sent a letter to her father in hopes he would come for her at last. What would he act like? As far as she knew, Vulcans were stoic, strict, and driven by logic. She wondered how he would react to her more human disposition. She was fallacious, vehement and temperamental. They'd most likely drive each other to exasperation._

_ Anxious- adjective: characterized by extreme uneasiness of mind or brooding fear about some contingency._

_ She was anxious over meeting her father and anguished over the death of her mother. The words circled around in her mind, dulling the sharp sensations they described. It ruined her human charade to focus on such technicalities and yet she could not relinquish the manipulation over her emotions that it allowed._

_ No longer willing to continue her mental wordplay, she moved on to numbers. Time, to be more specific. Her letter specifically stated he should arrive at 1230 hours so as to be fifteen minutes earlier than the people who would take her away. She didn't want to think of what would occur if he didn't come. He had precisely three-point-five minutes before he was late._

_ Vulcans were not late unless it was due to unforeseen troubles which could not be eluded. And yet he had missed every invitation she had sent him. But, then again, being late and being absent were two very different things. She hoped he would be neither at the time. If he did arrive, she would willingly forgive all the other days she sat and watched for the man who never came. She would fully accept the idea that he was her father._

_ Two-point-four-nine minutes. Perhaps it was true that he was indeed dead. It would explain the distinct lack of his presence in her life as well as the inability to reply to any of her attempts to contact him. She hoped fervently that he would come for her at last. Surely, now that he was all she had, he would arrive. He wouldn't leave her without anyone. Would he?_

_ One-point-one-six minutes. She was beginning to worry. Her anxiety grew with each passing second. If her father did not come, she would be put into the system. Her mother had no family left and she knew no one else who would take her in. She had seen a few orphans in her many different schools. The ones who found families ended up quite happy while those who were not adopted became bitter and often outcasts even among others like them. She would have no one._

_ Point-six-three minutes. Surely he would arrive. He couldn't leave her alone. They would have their differences, their disputes and contradictions, but surely he would put that aside. Enemies or not, work ethic aside, he couldn't abandon her. What sort of heartless soul would he be if he did?_

_ Elle turned her head towards the door as soon as time ran out. She watched them for precisely five minutes out of the sheer hope that her father would walk through and tell her she would live with him. No one, neither Vulcan nor human, walked through. He had left her in the hands of the government. She supposed it was the more logical approach. He had never been there before, to come now would leave him inexperienced and uncertain what to do with her._

_ Dismay- noun: the implication that one is disconcerted and at a loss as to how to deal with something._

_ Yes, she was dismayed at the lack of her father's presence. She wasn't certain whether to be disappointed or angered by his refusal to come to her aid. She turned away from the door, promising herself never to raise her expectations of people ever again. To do so would only hurt her once more. She would not allow anyone to hurt her again. No one would get close enough to do so, she assured herself. Distance was safety, and so she would save herself from the pain._

_ A woman, one of the agents, approached her slowly and kneeled down, "Elena, is there any family you know who can take you?"_

_ "No," she said, pushing aside the thoughts of her father. "I have no family left."_

_ The woman put her hand on Elle's shoulder, their skin brushed together as the woman attempted to comfort her. She felt the woman's sadness, her pity for the young girl who had nowhere to go. And she hated it. She loathed the sympathy. It did no good, anyway. She pulled away from the woman's grasp and stood._

_ Realizing she did not want comfort, the woman gestured for Elle to follow her out. She looked back one last time, knowing she would never see her mother again. She bid a silent goodbye and walked out after the woman._

_ True to her word, she never allowed anyone close enough to hurt her. But she wasn't entirely sure which was worse._

* * *

**Stardate: 2290.356**

I paced in the waiting room of the hospital Spock and I had taken Elle to. Spock had noted that she probably had a concussion and decided it was the best course of action. This is why I was left worrying for my friend while Spock stood with his hands clasped behind his back, impassive as ever.

"Aren't you even a little worried about her?" I demanded.

"Vulcans do not feel worry," he replied. "Furthermore, concussions are relatively mild injuries. The likelihood of Elle being gravely injured is less than point-zero-zero-nine-one-seven."

"Sometimes I wonder what the likelihood of you being a robot is," I muttered.

"Such an assumption would be highly illogical seeing as you know I am a carbon-based life form much like yourself."

"That was rhetorical, Spock," I sighed, falling into one of the chairs that lined the walls.

"Perhaps it was best kept to yourself if that was your aim."

"God, you're impossible."

I knew Spock didn't understand my meaning as soon as he raised a questioning eyebrow. Luckily, he didn't reply how he couldn't possibly be impossible as he existed and how appeals to 'false deities' were completely unnecessary. I knew Spock well enough that I could hear his unspoken replies in my head. If I really wanted to, I could've written a Spock to English dictionary. It probably could be a bestseller.

An approaching nurse snapped me out of my daydreams about the fictional Vulcan facial expression translating dictionary. I leapt to my feet as I realized she really was walking towards us.

"Is she alright?" I asked as soon as she was within earshot.

"She's is fine, if a bit disorientated," the nurse replied with a smile before turning to face Spock. "You may see your daughter now."

If Vulcans would admit to feeling emotions, I could've sworn Spock looked surprised beyond reason. I couldn't even seem to comprehend what the nurse was saying.

Spock shook his head, "She is not my daughter."

The nurse immediately began backtracking, "I'm sorry, sir. I just assumed, seeing as both of you are Vulcan…"

"You must be mistaken," he replied. "The girl we brought here is not Vulcan. Perhaps you have her mistaken with another patient."

The woman began to look confused before shaking her head, "You brought Elena Mayer here, right? She had a minor concussion from a blow to the head."

"That's her," I said with a nod.

"Well, she shows outward signs of being Vulcan, despite her human characteristics, so we assumed she must be at least half. Though, in retrospect, there is the small possibility she is Romulan, as there is very little to discern the two with just a gla-"

"Can I talk to her?" I asked, wondering what was going on.

She turned back to me, "Of course, follow me."

Spock and I followed the nurse through the door and down a few halls until she stopped before a closed door. She muttered something about needing to see other patients and walked off.

"Can I talk to her alone for a second, Spock?" I asked.

Spock paused for a moment before nodding. With a sigh, I walked into the room and shut the door behind me. Elle lay on the cot with her eyes closed, but the repetitive drumming of her fingers against her hand warned me she was awake. Glancing at the monitor above her head, I realized they weren't normal human vital signs.

"Vulcan or Romulan," I asked, unsure of what else to say while I sat down.

"Vulcan," she replied, voice carefully controlled. "But only half."

I nodded, "That explains a lot."

"I'm not going to apologize, if that's what you're here for."

"I wasn't expecting you to," I answered with a shaky laugh. "But- God, Elle, I've known you for how long and I only find out now?"

"Eleven years, nine months, and six days."

"What?"

"We've known each other for exactly eleven years, nine months, and six days. Funny how I can act exactly like a normal human while my mind betrays me…"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want this."

"Why not? There's nothing wrong being Vulcan."

She opened her eyes at last, "You don't know what it's like. I can keep time as if there's a clock embedded into my head. Numbers are like another language that I can speak fluently. And I see fifty-two different scenarios of how this conversation goes, thirty-six of which don't end well. I observe too much and can't control it. It draws a line between you and I. Even my mother could see the stark differences. She tried her best, but not even she knew how to deal with me completely."

"What about your father? He must've known-"

"My father abandoned us before I was born, for some reason I can't pinpoint. He didn't even have the heart to return when my mother slowly faded away. Vulcans have the ability to close away their emotions until there is nothing but ice, a function my father utilized flawlessly. I don't want to be like that."

"So do I even know you?"

She paused for a second before glancing at the ceiling, "I'm not even certain I know myself anymore. Once you hide behind a mask for so long, it's hard to separate the truth from the lie."

I leaned my head on my hands with a sigh, "Jesus."

"I didn't want to lie to you, I just wasn't sure how to go about telling you."

"Maybe 'oh, hey Alex, I think you should know I'm Vulcan'," I snapped sarcastically. "That would've worked wonders."

"And you think you would've reacted any differently than you are now?" she demanded, sitting up. "You think you wouldn't be just as angry? Alex, I know you too well to believe that."

"So you know everything about me and I don't know a damn thing about you?"

She looked at me incredulously before replying, "You know more about me than anyone else can claim. Do you think everything I've said is a lie? Don't negate everything just because of one lie."

"What do you expect me to do when you've just told me you don't even know yourself?"

"What do you what me to tell you?" she asked, standing up. "Do you want me to say I'm sorry for keeping quiet about something better left unsaid? Would you like it if I said how much it hurts me to talk about my parents? I'm not going to do that. It wouldn't make any difference. You'd get angry and sulk like you always do."

"Maybe that's a good thing. At least I can admit to it. Yes, I'm angry. Hell, I'm pissed. But at least I'm not acting as if this is no big deal. You're exactly what you don't want to be: uncaring and hollow!"

I stumbled backwards as the back of Elle's hand pitched across the side of my face. My hand flew up to the stinging flesh as I stared at her in shock. Her face was still in its calm mask, but her eyes gave everything away. I could see her anger and sorrow but, most of all, her resignation. It was almost as if she had expected this to happen and was prepared for it. Like she knew I would forsake her one day. But I was to irritated to acknowledge it.

She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again and turning away.

"You know what? Screw it. I don't need to explain myself to you. I don't need this."

"Neither do I," I muttered as her hands closed around the door handle.

She hesitated, glancing down sadly at the floor before holding her head high once more and walking out. I stood in the room for a few minutes, trying to calm myself down a bit. The last thing I needed was to go home and snap at someone because of the mood Elle had put me in.

I thought about her words, knowing they were true but too stubborn to admit it. It was true that she opened up to me a lot more than the others we knew. She kept her distance with the others but there were very few boundaries between us. That was why I felt betrayed. It wasn't because she couldn't find the way to tell me. It's because she didn't trust me enough to tell me. Because I had trusted her enough to reveal everything to her and she couldn't do the same.

With a sharp exhale, I walked out of the room. Spock watched me carefully as I avoided looking at Elle. She was leaning against the wall opposite of me, arms crossed and eyes cast downward. Her lips were pressed into a thin, hard line while face betrayed nothing of how she felt. Even her eyes, for the first time, seemed to be empty of all emotion.

"Let's go," I said to Spock as I walked past them.

"The nurse wished for us to watch for signs of drowsiness or memory impairment from Elle," he informed me as he followed.

"I could care less," I lied.

Spock stopped short at my reply, raising an eyebrow at my tone. Elle didn't so much as flinch at my words but continued to walk by. My rage flared up with her careless demeanor. Did tossing me aside truly come so easily to her? It seemed as if cutting herself off was second nature.

"If I may," Spock said, tone just barely hesitant, "whatever became of your father, Elle?"

She shrugged noncommittally, "I don't know. I didn't bother myself with him after my mother's death."

"Did you attempt to contact him?"

"Several times," she answered. "He worked at Starfleet, so it was easy to send him messages. A shame he never replied."

The rest of the walk out of the hospital and back home was long and silent. The minutes seemed to stretch for hours as none of us had anything to say to the others. When we arrived home, there was still silence. Almost everyone was asleep, so the silence could be justified. Elle didn't spare me a glance as she walked into her bedroom.

I couldn't sleep that night.


	5. Chapter Four: Visitor

_**I'm so sorry, you guys. I know I haven't updated in over a month, but I had no clue how to write this chapter. Things are about to get messy for the characters, but you'll understand why soon. As always, any mistakes are my fault and I appreciate any comments pointing them out. Thanks for being so patient with me. Enjoy. :)**_

* * *

**Stardate: 2279.08**

_ She shouldn't be doing this._

_ Every part of Elle's mind screamed that she should not be doing what she was, but something in her desperately wanted to. The streets were empty in the darkness of night, but she could see perfectly well under the new moon. If she was caught, she knew she would be in deep trouble. Then again, she had already made a habit of escaping the orphanage on a daily basis and she was confident that she would not be caught. But she truly should not be going through with this venture._

_ She could not say what, but something about the boy she met three days ago drew her in. There was something about Alexander Kirk that made her feel more comfortable than she had ever felt around other humans. He and his father seemed to be so very open and sincere that she felt at ease in their presence._

_ After having dinner with them, Alex had made it his goal to talk to her every day at school. He had received a number of odd looks from the other students but didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to revel in the attention. This was another reason she should not be seeking him out as attention was the one thing she shied away from most. But he was friendly and amusing and he made her feel normal, welcomed even. She didn't want to lose that. Deep down, she craved the companionship he had to offer._

_ It was perfectly logical, she knew, for she was half-human and humans were known to crave social interactions. That didn't mean she agreed with it. Sometimes she wasn't sure whether she was more human than Vulcan. Despite wanting nothing to do with her father and his culture, she had been unable to repress the curiosity and had done her fair share of research on the race. She had found that she had inherited many traits from her father. And yet she was more human in her actions and intentions. This was why she was mentally arguing with herself on the wisdom of going to Alex._

_ She stopped at the edge of the driveway that led to the Kirks' house, wondering just how much of her sanity had left that night. With a sigh of resignation, she walked up to the tree beside Alex's bedroom window and pulled herself onto the lowest branch. It didn't take long to scale the tree and reach the second-story window, but she hesitated once more. What sort of thirteen-year-old snuck out in the middle of the night to talk to a boy she barely knew? Elle couldn't even find an answer to the question._

_ She shook her head to dissipate the useless thought and tapped the glass softly. Alex was just visible from the window, sprawled across the bed in a hectic manner and looking for all the world as if he was about to slip off the edge. With a relatively harder tap, Alex started and indeed tumbled right off his bed in surprise. He looked up at her, blonde hair disheveled and bright blue eyes glazed over slightly from sleepiness, and she gave him an apologetic smile._

_ "Elle?" he asked as he opened the window. "What are you doing?"_

_ "Do you mind if I come in?" she asked, shifting her wait on the branch._

_ He glanced over his shoulder, "It's almost one in the morning."_

_ "Twelve forty-six," she corrected._

_ "What are you doing here?" he repeated._

_ She shrugged, "I wanted to talk."_

_ He backed away from the window, "Come on in and make yourself at home."_

_ With a quick calculation, she stretched her leg out until her foot sat on the windowsill and pushed away from the branch. Her arm locked around to the inside of the window just before she could fall and she easily slipped inside from there. Alex stood gaping at her, eyes wide._

_ "What?"_

_ "You just- That was- Jeez…"_

_ She blinked, "That was eloquent."_

_ He grinned, "Sorry. What was it you wanted to talk about?"_

_ Elle sat down on the bed, "I'm not really sure."_

_ He raised his eyebrows, "You came all this way and woke me up to talk but you don't know what to say?"_

_ "I guess so."_

_ "Okay…" he muttered, drawing out the word. "You must be the strangest girl I've ever known."_

_ "I probably will be," she conceded honestly._

_ He smiled again, face lighting up, "Good. You'll fit right in with the rest of us."_

_ "The rest of you?"_

_ "Yep, we're one big, dysfunctional family."_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ "Well, first off, there's Dad. He tends to fly through women like it's a race. I think he does it to forget about Mom. Then there's Spock, Dad's friend. He's half-Vulcan, half-human and tends to go back and forth between the two. He's married to Uhura, who can be the scariest woman you ever know. She's really protective but she gives the best gifts. Next would be Bones, who would be Dad's closest friend after Spock. He's a doctor and is a little hypo-happy, if you ask me. Jo's his daughter and acts just like him. She once gave me something like chicken pox, except they were purple. That was actually kind of funny, now that I think about it. _

_"Anyway, then there's Scotty and Lyel. Scotty tends to be a little odd, and he's always joking. Lyel's his son and is an incurable prankster. You don't want to be on the receiving end of his games. And lastly, there's Chekov and his fiancée, Sheryl. He's sort of clumsy at times, and a little awkward. But Sheryl's sweet and kind of moderates all of us. So now you know what sort of mess you're jumping into. Like I said, you'll fit perfectly."_

_Elle raised her eyebrows in surprise, shocked at the random mix of people Alex described as his family. The fact that he knew a Vulcan was enough to send her running, for fear that he would see through her act and recognize her for what she was, but she truly didn't want to give up whatever she could find with Alex. She opened her mouth to speak but fell silent when she heard soft footsteps._

_"Someone's-"_

_She stopped as the door opened and an unfamiliar man walked in. He had a long face adorned with deep brown eyes, a prominent brow, and lips obviously made for disapproving and confused frowns. His dark hair was cut in a shockingly straight line midway down his forehead. Even with the lack of proper lighting, she could make out the man's upward-angled eyebrows and pointed ears._

_"Alex," he said slowly, eyes traveling over Elle. "When your father asked me to watch you, though he did not say anything against a friend spending the night, I do not believe he gave permission to do so."_

_"Come on, Spock," Alex almost whined. "Can't she stay one night?"_

_The Vulcan watched the two carefully before nodding, "I will contact her parents and obtain their permission. So long as they agree, I see no reason she cannot stay."_

_"I don't have parents," Elle said automatically._

_Spock blinked in surprise, "Very well. Allow me to locate somewhere for you to sleep."_

_"There are some sleeping bags in the downstairs closet."_

_Elle gave Alex a questioning glance._

_"Dad wanted to try camping once, it didn't work out."_

_"I will retrieve them for you," the Vulcan announced, turning to walk out._

_"Mr. Spock," she called out, causing him to turn and raise a questioning eyebrow. "Thank you."_

_"There is no need for thanks," he replied. "There was little else to do. It would have been most illogical to send a child away in the middle of the night."_

_Without another word, Spock walked out of the room. Elle couldn't help gazing after him, wondering if her father would have been anything like the Vulcan she had just met._

* * *

**Stardate: 2290.357**

The next day had passed rather awkwardly between Elle and I. We didn't speak to each other and barely acknowledged the other's presence unless it was unavoidable. The rest of the family was beginning to notice, but no one asked. Even Spock had decided not to voice his opinion on the matter. He had maintained a relatively thoughtful expression throughout most of the day as if he was analyzing every aspect of the situation.

But Uhura had us both in the kitchen, though she kept my tasks fairly simple to avoid catastrophe. I was stuck peeling vegetables and snapping green beans while Elle worked away at the pies. It was one of the few times a year we actually cooked everything from scratch. Elle always made the pies as she was the best at making the crust, something she had learned from her mother. So we had all forfeited our chance to bake the desert when she could make pies that practically melted in your mouth.

Any other year, Elle and I would have been enjoying a conversation and laughing about whatever had happened that day. Neither of us was in the mood for talking after our little spat. I wasn't willing to forgive her so easily and she wasn't going to apologize for something she didn't believe to be wrong. So our combined stubbornness had forced us into an impasse and we refused to speak a word unless it was directed at someone else.

Lyel and Jo would occasionally send questioning glances my way, knowing they would get nothing out of Elle, whenever they could go unnoticed. But I couldn't tell them what the problem between us was. It was Elle's story to tell and I wouldn't go shout it to the world. Despite the lies, I still respected her privacy. And I was silently hoping she would tell them herself. Let her deal with the trouble she had started. I wanted no part of it.

But both of us were startled when the doorbell rang, our heads snapping in the direction of the sound at roughly the same time. Elle went to give me a confused glance before stopping midway and turning back to her pie.

"Spock, will you get the door?" I heard Dad call from the dining room.

There was the faint sound of the door opening and the muffled greetings before Spock spoke over the noise of us all getting ready for dinner.

"Elle, there's a visitor here for you."

The silence following the Vulcan's statement was deafening. You could have heard a feather hit the floor. Elle gazed in the direction of wall between the door and the kitchen as if she could see through it. She looked completely surprised at the announcement but was able to quickly pick her jaw up from the floor.

"I'm coming," she replied, not bothering to put down the glass pie pan as she walked out of the kitchen.

Barely a minute had passed before the sound of glass shattering echoed through the house. I ran out of the kitchen only to stop in surprise at what I saw. Elle stood still as stone in the middle of the living room, shards of glass and bits of uncooked pie scattered at her feet. Her arms were extended slightly before her, as if she still held the glass pan, but there was a look of utter shock and horror on her face. Directly across from her stood two Vulcans, a man and a woman, but one I recognized immediately.

The man who stood before Elle was the same one from the photograph. Though his face had a few subtle lines etched into his pale skin but he was otherwise identical. Despite the dark jeans, shirt and jacket he wore, he looked vaguely uncomfortable. I hadn't been able to tell with the picture but, with both of them together, I could see the resemblance. They shared the same sharp features and straight, dark hair. But where her father seemed calm and empty, Elle's face was a myriad of emotions all laid out to be read.

"What are you doing here," she whispered, her eyes never wavering from her father.

"I was invited by Mr. Spock."

I barely glanced at Spock who was standing in the doorway, watching the scene with the air of a scientist examining an interesting experiment. It made me wonder if he had factored in how many ways this could go wrong in the super-computer that was his head.

"Twenty-four years, and you've never made so much as an appearance," she breathed, face easing into a scarily calm mask. "And now you just waltz in on Christmas Eve?"

"Elle, I have come on request of Mr. Spock who believes it would be most productive to speak with you."

Elle spared the room a glance for the first time, noting how everyone was standing still and silent as if some form of explosive might go off at the slightest movement.

"I think it would be best if we continued this discussion in private."

I have to credit her father at that moment. Even though not a single word in her sentence had betrayed anything, the cold tone of her voice warned me that she was just a word away from snapping. One wrong word on his part and she would retaliate in whatever way she saw fit. He had obviously never seen her before and abandoned her completely when her mother died, but I didn't know the full extent. Whatever it was, Elle was well beyond angry and her father simply stood there as if he was made of stone.

Without so much as another word, she stepped easily over the mess at her feet and to the stairwell. Both Vulcans moved to follow her when she stopped and turned to face the woman.

"Forgive me if I'm being rude, but I believe I said 'in private'."

The woman stopped, eyes barely widening in surprise. A second passed before she backed away and allowed the two to continue up the stairs. As soon as they were out of sight, everyone immediately tried to find something to do, besides the Vulcan woman who took a seat on the couch. Unable to help myself, I walked over to Spock.

"You really invited Elle's father?" I asked incredulously.

"As he said, I believe it would be highly productive for Elle to speak with him."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"You do not agree with my thoughts on the matter?"

"No," I said. "Whatever happened between them, Elle is furious at the man and you just brought the two within a mile radius of each other. You know what happens when a cold front hits a warm front."

"I fail to see how air currents of varying temperatures relate to the present matter in any way."

"It's a metaphor, Spock. Elle's the warm front and her father's the cold. You've just created a tornado."

"In actuality, the cold front will cause the warm front to rise and the water molecules in the atmosphere to condense into clouds. Tornados are only created as a result of several separate factors-"

"You're missing the point! Despite whatever you think, there isn't any possibility of this ending well. Whatever happened between them, it's not going to get fixed because of one talk."

"Perhaps not. However, it is probable that the two may reconcile over time."

"Yeah, but at Christmas?"

"It has been my observation that Christmas is a time when humans gather as a family."

"Not when they've never met," I protested.

"You believe it would have been wiser to choose a different time?"

"I think it would have been smarter to not choose a time at all. How did you even find him?"

"I searched the Starfleet records for any Vulcans contacted by one Elena Mayer."

"And then, what? You just decided to invite him to dinner?"

"I confirmed that he is indeed her biological father and informed him that Elle had attempted to contact him on several occasions. He wished to rectify this and accepted my proposal."

"And who's the woman he brought with him?"

"That would be his wife."

I jumped at the sound of a door slamming open upstairs. Elle walked briskly down the stairs, never turning around as her father came down slowly after her. Without a word to anyone, she pulled her coat out of the closet and walked out the door. I winced as it slammed shut behind her with a finality of what had happened.

"And that's why this never should have happened," I announced.

Ignoring Spock's gaze, I pulled my own coat out of the closet and followed her. Despite everything that had happened, I knew Elle would need someone to vent to. I had always been that person and, no matter what secrets she kept or lies she told, I wasn't going to force her into dealing with it alone. I didn't lie to her the day before. She was stuck with me, whether she liked it or not.


End file.
